


Criticality

by MaevesChild



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Far Harbor, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Sexual Tension, children of atom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaevesChild/pseuds/MaevesChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nora came to Far Harbor to kill stuff.  She was good at it.  She didn't expect to kill her own demons though, especially not with HIS help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

##  **crit·i·cal·i·ty**

(krĭt′ĭ-kăl′ĭ-tē)

  1. The point at which a nuclear reaction is self-sustaining.
  2. The state of a substance or system at its critical point.



 

 

Nora came to Far Harbor as angry as a deathclaw.  She couldn’t even decide who in the hell she was more angry with.  

Danse? Shaun?

_Nate._

It hadn’t been 200 years for her.  To her it had only been a few months since he told her he was leaving her and then left her in limbo, not taking any action and walking around their house as if nothing was wrong just days before the bombs fell and the world ended.

She wanted to. . . _ugh_.  There’s wasn’t anything that was going to make any of it better.  All she could do was find something else to occupy her brain until she was calm enough to cope with it.

Nothing was going to bring Nate and Shaun back from the dead so she could tell them how angry she was.  It was pointless anyway _._  They didn’t listen to her before; death didn’t make her chance of being heard any better.

Nick was fairly stable, for the most part.  And this case was something worth doing.  Her life was fucked beyond repair, but maybe she could still be useful.

It was oddly beautiful for a place that was mostly destroyed and definitely poisoned.  

Nora had always been partial to fog, to that cool overcast when stray rays of sunlight filtered fitfully through the trees.  It was easier to forget that the trees were only bare branches here.  Far Harbor’s fog was thick and radioactive, but it softened all the edges.  There were monsters but few men.  Everything felt eerily untouched in comparison to the Commonwealth.  

At first, she went to the Nucleus for Nick.  He was desperate to know if Dima was truly his brother.  She understood.  But it made no sense just to barge in, guns blazing when there was another way.  She left him behind though.  She knew they wouldn’t trust her with a synth walking behind her.

The Children of Atom.  She wasn’t sure what to make of them.  At least they didn’t immediately attack her here.  Better than back home.

_Home._  The word didn’t have much meaning these days.  

The man at the door was soft spoken but undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with.  He wasn’t tall but he seemed imposing even so, the sort of person who took command of a room as soon as he walked in.  He stood watch as two ragged looking Children shot each other.  It should have disturbed her.  

It didn’t.

She watched Far Harbor execute one of them this morning.  She understood why they were paranoid.  She certainly couldn’t judge.

_Grand Zealot Richter._ Hell of a title.  Nice tattoo though.  Nicer beard.

He sent her off on a pilgrimage like in one of those old timey stories, back when religion wasn’t out of fashion.  She went through the motions.  The very last thing she expected was for something to actually happen.  She tried to blame it on radiation poisoning but she didn’t believe it.  She’d been sick from rads more than once before.  She’d never hallucinated like that, not even on chems.

Nora figured even people who thought a title like _zealot_ was a good idea were going to think she was crazy when she told them.  A ghostly mysterious figure, appearing out of the wilderness to guide her to a shrine? It _was_ fucking crazy.  But they accepted what she said without question; they accepted _her_ without question.  She wasn’t sure anyone had accepted her as she was before.  

_Too opinionated. Too loud. Too_ **_much._ **

The Children of Atom took her in and called her sister.  They didn’t tell her what was wrong with her.  They just opened their arms.  

Then there was the Grand Zealot.  She could tell he was used to keeping himself apart from the others.  Easiest way to keep their respect and their fear was to be not entirely human.  She got it.  She did the same, back in Sanctuary.  What choice did they have?

She caught him looking at her, more than once.  It wasn’t subtle; he wasn’t trying to go unnoticed.  It was blatant staring, an assessment though she wasn’t sure of what.

She wasn’t surprised when he told her he was a soldier.  She didn’t know much about the Capitol Wasteland and even less about the Enclave, only the little bits she gleaned from Danse and R. J. and who knew if either of them even could recognize the truth even if it hit them square in the face.  But whatever he’d been before, now he was just standing there with his arms folded across his chest.  His eyes were shaded dark in the half light, though she recalled them being mixed hues of blue, grey and brown.

He told her his name was Brian.  It felt like he walked out of the same world she came from somehow, even though she knew he didn’t.  He shifted his head and a lock of blonde hair fell down over his forehead.

The hair stood up on the back of her neck.  Her legs felt liquid.

He grunted.  It wasn’t prompted by anything as far as she could tell.

Nora wasn’t sure how to respond.  Her body was betraying her.  She was tired, irradiated, hungry.  He looked up at her and her head was abuzz with arousal.  Her head and everything else, for that matter.  It made no sense.  If anything, she should be afraid of him. That much was obvious.  

Before she could decide how to react, he spoke.

His voice had a ghost of chuckle.  “You’re like me. ”

Nora blinked at him.  “What do you mean?”

His face had an impossible to decipher expression.  “In the Enclave,” he said, the tip of his tongue showing between his teeth, “ _Pure human._ ” He sighed.  “In your case, _Prime Normal_.”

“That’s what the doctor in Vault 81 called me,” she said.  She remembered feeling strange about it.  “My DNA isn’t mutated by radiation.  I was in a Vault, frozen. ”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further.  “I was born into the Enclave,” he explained.  “Protected from the mutations.  We all were.” He snorted derisively.  “Didn’t do my squad any good when they died, spitting out their teeth. ” Then he smiled, a dark, bitter thing, his fingers running through his beard absently.  “But not you.  You seem to tolerate the glow well. ”

Nora shrugged.  “Practice,” she said.  “When I went to the Glowing Sea the first time, I threw up inside my Power Armor.  I don’t recommend that.”

He smirked. Some of the bitterness disappeared from his face.  “I don’t miss Power Armor.” He cocked his head.  “I can’t believe you saw her, the Mother.  You've surprised me.” A slow smile crept across his face.  It made his eyes crinkle at the corners.  It was such an unexpectedly genuine expression, it made Nora’s stomach feel strange.  “For several reasons.” His smile wavered a little.  “I’m- _we’re_ glad to have you with us. ”

She swallowed hard. The radiation made her fingertips go numb.

_The radiation. Right._

 

***

 

Nora knew she should go back to Nick now that she’d dredged Dima’s memories up out of storage.  Instead, she let the days tick by doing odd jobs, praying at shrines, hunting with her new brothers and sisters.  Two days, three. . . a week, two weeks.  

It was funny, but she really did seem to be getting acclimated to the radiation.  Took far longer before the Rad-X wore off now.  Her hair stopped falling out.

She took one of the storage rooms near the computer core and turned it into her own, now that the security systems were disarmed.  The High Confessor gave her leave to do whatever she wanted; she dug the traitor out of their midst after all.  She felt a twinge of guilt about that still.  Aubert was only blinded by love and by grief but Nora knew she would have turned on Tektus eventually, once she had the chance.  

Nora didn’t want to risk her new family.  It scared her, how much they felt like that.  She wasn’t sure Aubert was the only one not seeing clearly.

It was easier in private.  She sat on the cot she’d found, her legs folded in front of her, her back against the cool wall behind her.  She wore only a tank top and her panties.  No need to protect herself in here.  The rads were low, the temperature was nice and she’d hear shooting long before anyone got to her, even if someone decided to do something foolish.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head, to relax, to forget.  Nick wasn’t going anywhere.  Synths didn’t even age.  They’d wait.  She wasn’t even sure what she was going to do.  Atom’s will didn’t include room for synths.  

She didn’t know what to believe.  She wished she was tired.

In the hall, there was a shuffling sound. She sat up and grabbed her pistol without thinking. Boots. Worn soles trying to walk softly. She clicked off the safety with the pad of her thumb. The switch snapped loud in her ears. She felt her pulse speed.  

The footsteps stopped. The silence crept up her spine.  Fingers flexed.  A muscle twitched in her jaw.

Then, a sigh.  

That wasn’t what she expected. A long exhale of what? _Defeat? Frustration?_ She couldn’t be sure. Her fingers loosened as the footsteps started up again.  One, two, three.  Then knocking on the wall next to the open door.  Nora frowned and slid the pistol back under her pillow.

_Who the hell knocked?_

“Yes?” Her thumb snapped the safety back into place.  She set her hand limply on her thigh.  Her palm was clammy.

A body came around the corner.  For a heartbeat, she didn’t recognize him without his armor.  

She tried not to sound surprised.  “Grand Zealot?” She also tried not to notice that he was wearing jeans that fit entirely too well and a worn white t-shirt that was half a size too tight.  She cleared her throat.  “Is something wrong?”

The corner of his mouth twitched.  It wasn’t quite a smile.  “No, everything is fine. ” His brow furrowed.  “Mind if I come in?”

Nora shook her head.  Probably too quickly.  She waved him in and cocked her head, gesturing to the bed beside her.  She hadn’t found any chairs yet, so the only option was the bed.

“Have a seat,” she said.  She tried not to be self conscious about being half naked. Things were different now.  Modesty was of limited importance, but old habits died hard.

Richter sat on the bed beside her, the springs of the cot creaking, the mattress dipping down to accommodate his weight.  She inspected her fingers, trying not to look at him. He smelled sharply of clean skin, of soap. His hair was damp. It was hard to think.

Nora hadn’t felt a lick of desire since she defrosted.  She assumed something had broken inside of her.  But now, something was shifted; things changed. Her skin felt loose. Her cheeks were hot. This was the worst possible timing for her biological urges to assert themselves. The worst place.

_Why him?_

“So,” she said, looking up at him. She hoped her voice didn’t sound strained under her forced casualness.  “What did you need? Something need killing?”

He was staring. “No.” He shook his head as punctuation. He blinked at her a few times, his pupils big dark spots in his eyes.  She didn’t even see him move until she felt his fingers tracing along the faint scar under her eye.

“Raiders?” he asked, not looking at her eyes, just focused on the ridged skin.

She chuckled. “I rode my bike into a parked car. Hit the chrome bumper with my face. I was ten. ”

“Ah,” he said. He tilted his head to get a better look. “That explains how it healed so cleanly. ”

“Five stitches, several stimpacks and a big cherry slushie later.”

He met her eyes, puzzled.

“What?”

“What’s a _slushie?_ ”

Nora grinned. She always forgot.  “Shaved ice. With sugary juice.” She shook her head wistfully. “I miss them.  Ice cream too. They had ice cream in Vault 81, but it was terrible.” She shrugged one shoulder.

Richter frowned and leaned back away from her abruptly. His hand fell down on to his leg. The faded denim looked soft against his fingers. She wanted to touch it.

“Atom demands many sacrifices. ”

Nora felt sheepish. She rarely let herself dwell on it. Slushies and strip malls were the past. Besides, her life had still been terrible, despite all those luxuries. She used to take Day Tripper on weekends, just so she didn’t scream at Nate when he got drunk and forgot she existed. She was miserable then, dying one day at a time.

At least now she felt alive. And the Nucleus had hot showers.  They were irradiated and the water was always rusty, but really, what more could a wasteland girl want?

“I don’t propose to know what Atom wants,” she said. “But I don’t miss the past as much as you might think.” She leaned forward unconsciously, her elbows on her bent knees. “I like this life, as strange as that sounds.”

“No, doesn’t sound strange,” he said. “The Enclave has much more advanced technology, comforts we don’t have here. But that made life mean less. We were expendable."  He snorted. "I was left to die and I doubt I’m more than a check mark in a database to anyone left behind.  Here, there is meaning. Through Atom, I found a life.”

“You know, I didn’t expect to stay,” she admitted. “I…”

_Should she tell him?_ She told Tektus why she came eventually and he said little. He only frowned and she pledged her devotion. She wasn’t sure if she meant it at the time. She was beginning to think she did.

This was the first real family she’d ever had; closer, more trustworthy than her real family had ever been.

“I was going to get the data from the computer core and leave again,” she said. The words felt gross in her mouth. “I didn’t believe in Atom or in anything. But I don’t know anymore. Maybe I am here for a reason.”

Richter was silent. His face was impassive.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking away out through the black rectangle of the door. His blank expression spooked her. She was getting way ahead of herself. Just because he made her panties go damp was no reason to change her entire life, was it? This was crazy. Did they even want her here? Did he?

_Why was he here again?_

“I don’t know either,” he said. He leaned forward too, mimicking her pose. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. “But I- you’re good here.”

She turned her face slowly towards him. He was closer than she realized.  She felt his damp hair brush against her skin.  She stopped debating with herself. There wasn’t any doubt why he was here. At least it wasn’t just her.

Nora leaned forward, letting her forehead press against his. His eyes closed.

“Let’s see if it _is_ good,” she murmured. “Shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

Neither of them moved. Nora struggled to catch her breath; his nearness, his presence was overwhelming. What exactly were they doing?

_Well, besides the obvious?_

He was important here. It would be easy for the others to think she was taking advantage.  Getting close to the Grand Zealot would be an excellent way to become even more imposing.   _What if they hated her for it?_ Certainly she wasn’t the first to notice he was handsome, after all.  What if this was only biology and in time she and Brian hated each other, just like happened with Nate? Maybe she should go before things got complicated.

He kissed her before she could decide.

The wiry hair of his beard was surprisingly soft, but not as soft as the first gentle press of lips against hers. He was only gentle for a moment before she felt his fingers tangle through the wild mess of her hair to pull her tightly against him. Her fingers clutched at the thin fabric stretched over his shoulder.  

She could feel the way he was holding himself back, even as he kissed her hard. Despite his passion, he only responded to her, waited for her. She pulled his lower lip into her mouth, the tip of her tongue intrigued by the fine hairs underneath. The muscles in his arm trembled. She curved her other hand around the ridge of his jaw, finding the bones and muscle when her fingers carded through his beard.

He almost purred against her mouth.

She pulled back, wanting to look at him, wanting to make sure she wasn’t going mad. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever kissed her like that before. This was the last place she thought she’d find this. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Brian. ”

His eyes were heavy lidded when he looked at her, the usual guarded expression gone. His mouth was curved but not quite a smile.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Nora asked. It sounded like she’d been running.

A deep line appeared between his eyebrows. “Do you not…”

She interrupted that thought immediately. “No I do, I just--I don’t know what it means. ”

He put his hand on her face. “Does it have to mean something?” He shrugged. “Maybe it will. Maybe it does.”

She considered. How many times had she come within inches of death since she woke? Through it all, she felt almost nothing but anger and fear. Finally she felt something else--desire, passion. She liked him too. It was good enough.

 _Maybe it will._ That was fine.

She kissed him, grabbing the back of his neck. She turned herself, turned him with her and leaned back. He followed her lead, rolling over until his weight was pinning her down to the mattress. His heart was beating as hard as hers was. Nora shifted her leg, bent her knee so the soft skin of her thigh rubbed against the side of his hip. He moved, just slightly and she felt the ridge of his erection behind his zipper.

He moved his mouth from hers, down over her jaw. She felt the tip of his tongue drag down the side of her neck. His beard was rubbing her skin raw. It was wonderful.

She felt his fingers slide under the hem of her tank top, up along her ribs. His touch wasn’t tentative, but he stopped deliberately with his thumb just under the curve of her breast. His eyes flicked up and met hers, his lips on the tip of her freckled chin.

“May I?” he asked. The movement of his lips against her skin when he spoke thrilled her. No one had ever bothered to ask before. They just assumed. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure she wanted what she’d gotten before -- but this, _this_ she wanted.

“Please, yes,” she whispered. It was the best she could do. “I want it.” It was hard to say. She wasn’t good at vulnerable. She said it anyway.

He smiled and his hand moved. The fabric shifted over the web of his finger and thumb, the palm of his hand curving, sliding up over soft pale skin. No one had touched her in a long time. His thumb ghosted over the peak of her nipple. It felt like an electric shock.

He shifted his weight, rubbing the soft bristle of his beard down her neck, replaced his thumb with his mouth. She arched her back up off the mattress and gasped at the contact. She was so much more sensitive and responsive than she remembered. She forgot about her insecurities -- how she’d hardly let Nate see her body after Shaun was born after seeing the disdain in his eyes. Brian was reverent instead, his mouth working against her nipple, his fingers gently tracing along the silver white stretch marks that splayed up from the waist of her panties. Nora closed her eyes, let the sensation, his admiration even of her flaws, wash over her. He made contented noises, muffled by her skin.

She felt him wriggle his hips, slip down off the edge of the cot until he was kneeling on the floor, one of her ankles carefully resting on his shoulder. Nora propped herself on her elbows to look at him. The tips of his fingers were flipping the worn elastic on her panties up and down. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her, waiting.

Her cheeks were hot. She didn’t trust herself to speak, nodding her head instead. Brian’s fingers hooked themselves into the fabric. She closed her eyes again and let her head fall back as he worked her panties down off over her hips, getting one leg free and then sliding the little scrap of fabric with agonizing slowness along the leg hooked over his shoulder. He kissed her ankle before flinging off her panties over her foot.

Even now that she was thinner and harder from life in the Commonwealth she was self conscious. Her belly was still soft, striped, a little flap of flesh above the scar from when Shaun was born. She wasn’t beautiful anymore, not like when she was young, not like she was before.   Nora didn’t see any of that reflected on Brian’s face. He looked nothing but aroused.

He slipped her other foot on to his opposite shoulder and worked his lips up along the length of her muscular leg. She knew her pale skin was bruised and scarred. Life here wasn’t conducive to looking like a porcelain doll after all.  Still, he didn’t hesitate to touch her, didn’t flinch even over the long fresh scrape on her thigh. He kissed it instead.  Made it feel better.

She loved the way his beard felt on her skin.

By now, it was her knees hooked over his shoulders. He had his cheek resting against her inner thigh. She could feel his breath, cool against her damp, overheated skin. She wanted to beg but she couldn’t find her voice. She bit her lip instead. She wanted, but it was difficult- _impossible_ to ask. Too many old hang ups.

He read her body language, looked up from admiring between her legs to smile at her, to assess. Nora did the best she could, shifting her hips, still biting her lip as she watched him. He blinked slowly a few times before pressing his lips against the crux of her thigh and her hip. He didn’t look back up, not until she felt the tip of his tongue, so carefully and gently poised over her clit. That’s when his eyes flicked back up to hers, a dark blue ring around his dilated pupils. His nostrils flared.

Nora wasn’t sure she still knew how to form words, but he was waiting. Waiting until she said yes.

 _Maybe it will. Maybe it does._  His words echoed in her head. If nothing else, it meant letting go of her old baggage. Letting go and being alive in a way she hadn’t before. She wasn't sure she had ever really lived, always feeling things through a wall of neurosis, of fear at being too open, too vulnerable. It was like kissing through a blanket. It never seemed quite real.

_Enough.  How much more being alive was she gonna miss?_

“Yes,” she managed. Her voice was breathy and soft, but it was a word. She knew she could do better, but one step at a time.

His eyes crinkled again and she felt his smile on her skin. The tiny sensation almost overwhelmed her. Then, without warning his tongue flicked out and curled around her clitoris.  She felt her pulse throb between her legs and a long, low moan torn itself from her throat. She closed her eyes again, squeezed them tight. She felt his hands slide up from underneath, cupping her ass and lifting her hips up off the mattress.

He devoured her. His tongue lapped at her and he nuzzled closer, nipping her sensitive flesh between his lips. It felt like all the nerves in her body lit up. His mouth, his tongue, the tickling prickle of his beard on her thighs became the entire world.

Her toes curled, her calves flexed, a muscle in her thigh twitched involuntarily.

“Oh. . . _fuck_ ,” she whimpered. “ _Brian._ ” He paused at the sound of his name for a heartbeat. “Please don’t stop.” She was begging now. Anything, _anything_ to make sure he didn’t stop. “I’m going to-”

Before she could finish, he sucked hard. His thumbs curved up, one sliding inside of her while the other hand bore her weight, just a breath above the cot but enough that she felt weightless as pleasure shattered over her.

Nora screamed his name and buried her heels into his back.

It took a few moments before she remembered to breathe again. She’d slipped down off her elbows and narrowly missed hitting her head against the wall. She wasn’t sure she would have felt it, even if she had. She struggled to catch her breath.

Brian slipped her legs down off his shoulders and tucked them under his arms instead, pausing to pull his t-shirt off over his head. It disappeared into the corner of her room, lost in the shadows along with her panties. He climbed up on the bed, one leg still between hers as he curled up on his side.  He propped his head in his hand. She lolled hers over to look at him.

She thought she could not have been more utterly satisfied.  But one look at him, his hungry smile, his beard damp and musky, the artfully disheveled dusting of dark gold hair across his chest and she felt an overwhelming shock of arousal. She couldn’t understand what it was about him that made her feel this way; so strongly, so much more than just a reaction to his form, gorgeous as he was. It was something more than that, some magnetic appeal. She was only grateful he saw her too.  

She could feel his erection pressed up against her hip, but still he was patient, waiting for her to catch her breath. His finger idly ran in a line down her sternum.

Nora rolled on to her side, trapping his finger between her breasts when she moved. She placed the flat of her palm on his chest, feeling his heart racing underneath. She wasn’t patient, not like he was. Her hand moved quickly down, over his belly, over the waist of his jeans. Nora cupped his erection through the well worn fabric.

He closed his eyes when she touched him, moaned plaintively. His hips pushed against her hand.  She didn’t bother teasing him. She unbuttoned his pants with a flick of her fingers, the zipper practically undoing itself. He wasn’t wearing anything under those tight jeans and she wrapped her hand around him. He was unbelievably hard.

She let go of his cock only to grab at his shoulder to roll him over on top of her. Somehow they managed to shimmy his jeans down far enough as they moved that he managed to kick one leg out, the denim inside out, still up to his knee on the other side. Neither of them were thinking at this point, just touching and clinging to each other.

He kissed her again as she bent her leg to cradle his hip. She reached down between them to touch him again. She wanted him. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so desperate for it before. She slicked the head of his cock between her folds, angling her hips up. He moved forward and she moved to meet him. She was still so slick from her orgasm, from his mouth that he slid inside her without resistance.

His lips broke away from hers as he groaned. His hip bone bit into her inner thigh. He just stared at her, like he was memorizing her; her face, her hair, the curve of her neck. He reached out and ran one fingertip along her collarbone. She didn’t move, but she felt the pulse of his blood in his cock. She pushed her hips up against him, angled them so he slid deeper inside her.  He bit his lip.

“Brian, please.” She wrapped one arm around his neck, the other down between his shoulder blades and lower still until her fingertips pressed into his tailbone. “Fuck me. ”

There wasn’t any hesitation. He bent his leg up under her knee for leverage. He moved slow, but hard, hard enough that the cot creaked underneath them. The metal frame shifted on the tile underneath, clanking into the wall with each fervent thrust of his hips. She clung to him desperately. She needed this, needed him badly. She thought maybe she’d needed him in her life two hundred years before he was born.

Then she couldn’t think at all. He was pounding into her, her short nails digging into his back.  It only spurred him on. She could tell by the erratic rhythm of his movements that he wasn’t going to last long, but she didn’t need it to. She was ready now, ready to feel him come undone.

She felt him start to pull away but she grabbed at him. She didn’t know what the wasteland did to her body, whether something unexpected could happen or not, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stand the idea of him moving away from her. She wrapped a leg around his waist, holding him tight to her.

He met her eyes, even as she could feel his cock throb helplessly inside of her.

She only nodded but that was enough. He kissed her again and moved his hips, just shifted enough that his pelvis rubbed against her clit and then she felt him come, felt the pulse of his cock inside her, his tongue in her mouth, his fingers buried in her hair.

She held him tightly against her, relishing in the feel of his weight pressing down on her.  He buried his face in her neck, panting hard. His skin was warm and slightly damp. His heart was pounding. After a few long moments catching his breath, he lifted his head to look at her. His face was flushed, sweat damp. She brushed his hair back off his forehead.

“Praise Atom,” he said, though he laughed when he did, as if he didn’t entirely believe it. But then he sobered a little, not sad but at least sincere. “ _It does._ ” His voice was low.

Nora was confused. “What does what?” It felt like she was missing something but her brains were rattled.

“This,” Brian said. He sort of shifted to the side and laid his head on the crook of her shoulder, one leg draped over hers. “It means something.”

Her heart pattered in her chest. _Maybe it will. Maybe it does._ He didn’t say anything else. She didn’t know what it meant and she suspected he didn't either, but she felt alive for the first time in forever. That was plenty meaning enough.

“You’re right,” she said. She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “It does.”


End file.
